


are you done running?

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boyfriends, Carrying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Secret Relationship, promptio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: “So, are you done running?”“Huh? Well, yeah, for a while, probably. No thanks to this.”---In which Prompto gets hurt, and is forced to have a heart-to-heart.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 22
Kudos: 160





	are you done running?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wirefoxboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirefoxboys/gifts), [artofalassa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=artofalassa).



> Happy birthday @artofalassa and @wirefoxboys! This Promptio fluff is for you two <3

“Don’t be stubborn,” Gladio says.

The reprimand couldn’t be more perfectly timed, as Prompto slips in a puddle of mud and falls almost immediately after.

It isn’t the first time, and he’s certain it won’t be the last, but he tries to collect what remains of his dignity as he groans and curses, Gladio watching from a short distance away with hands on his hips.

It’s raining, the thick forest providing minimal protection from the downpour, and the sky is growing darker by the minute as the sun, already behind the clouds, begins to slip below the horizon.

They had been going stir crazy from being cooped up in the car.

“Hey, let’s run to the store and back,” Gladio had suggested after making camp. “It’s only a couple miles away. We could both use the exercise.” _And the break from Noctis and Ignis,_ was left unsaid.

Prompto had jumped at the chance, partly because he enjoyed running. But mostly because he loved Gladio, and moments alone together were few and far between, especially with being on the road.

That had been earlier this afternoon. When it was still sunny and beautiful, and the world seemed bright and inviting.

 _It’ll be fun_ , they had thought.

And then the clouds rolled in as they were leaving the store, and Prompto had twisted his ankle after slipping in the wet grass shortly after, and now they could think of a million other things they would much rather be doing.

Cuddling together in a sleeping bag.

Eating Ignis’s food, hot off the stove.

Even riding together in the Regalia.

Anything but this.

“It’s only about another half mile, right?” Prompto grimaces as he gets to his feet, ankle throbbing insistently from the pressure he places on it.

“Give or take,” Gladio agrees, squinting through the water that continues to drip into his eyes. “Maybe a little further. Like I said, it’ll be faster if I carry you.”

“No way dude, I’ve got this.” _I can hold my own weight_ , is what he really wants to say, and as he begins to hobble along, Gladio sighs.

“Don’t come crying to me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe we were at the rest stop and didn’t buy any potions,” Prompto whines, choosing to ignore Gladio’s comment.

To be fair, Prompto had been a little distracted when Gladio pointed out an advertisement for a bottle of lube that read: _not everyone likes it rough._

“What about you, blondie?” he had drawled, then laughed when Prompto turned redder than a Lucian tomato.

When Gladio chuckles amid the memory, it sends heat shooting through Prompto’s clammy pale skin. He shivers, goosebumps raising on his bare arms, then hugs himself tight, thinking of how great he’s going to sleep once he actually gets dry.

 _If_ he ever gets dry. Prompto swears he can feel the cold down to his bones, and he clenches his teeth to keep them from chattering.

A boom of thunder makes him jump, and he tilts sideways as he begins to fall again, arms windmilling in terror, but Gladio steps in and wraps an arm firmly around Prompto’s waist, tighter than any vice.

“Alright, I tried to be patient, but you’re being ridiculous,” he grunts.

Before he can process what is happening, Prompto feels his feet leave the ground, two hands gripping his waist to lift him effortlessly.

“ _Hey_!” Prompto yelps and kicks in alarm, a foot catching Gladio in the ribs and making the man hiss.

“Hold still!” Gladio orders. Prompto goes limper than a ragdoll with the command so that Gladio can carry him bridal style, arms naturally looping around his neck.

“ _Duuuude_ ,” Prompto moans. “This is totally lame!”

“You know what’s lamer? Watching you fall on your ass every other step.”

Gladio manuevers around a fallen tree, still holding onto Prompto as if he weighed nothing. Under better circumstances, Prompto would probably have laughed at the situation, but he’s too busy burying his head into Gladio’s chest—his _very_ firm chest. _Wow_ , _he’s solid as a rock_ —to hide his embarrassment to appreciate it.

“Iggy and Noct are gonna laugh at me. They’re never gonna let me live this down!” he says, words muffled as he speaks into the damp fabric of Gladio’s tank top.

“Can you _not_ talk? Trying to focus here.”

Prompto lifts his head to roll his eyes. “I can just hear them now. ‘Stop faking to get attention, Prompto. If you wanted alone time with Gladio you should have just said so’ _—_ ”

Gladio’s body tenses as he leans in to cover Prompto’s mouth with his without warning, and he chokes on his own words, whatever he was about to say replaced with a high-pitched sound.

The kiss is quick, but long enough to render Prompto breathless, derailing every other thought he might have had.

“Prompto,” Gladio says firmly. Blue eyes flit briefly to his face, still reeling from the interruption. “Shut. Up.” There’s more amusement than animosity in the words, and Prompto heeds them, finally going quiet.

They continue on their way, the sound of the rain more soothing now than it was before.

 _Okay, so maybe it_ is _nice to be held_ , Prompto thinks. And Gladio is right—they cover ground faster when he isn’t trying to walk on his hurt ankle, but after a few minutes their pace slows, and Prompto can feel Gladio’s arms around him straining from fatigue.

“Hey, put me down, I can walk for a bit if you’re tired.”

“No chance,” Gladio huffs, although he does gently set Prompto on his feet without letting go, angling slightly and squatting down instead. “Just get on my back, it’ll be easier to carry you that way.”

This time, Prompto knows better than to argue, and he lays his cheek against Gladio’s back as he is lifted, closing his eyes.

The sway of Gladio’s footfalls combined with his inhales and exhales creates a soothing melody in his ears, and despite being cold, and wet, and hurt, Prompto can feel himself beginning to drift off.

He’s nearly asleep when Gladio announces: “We’re here.”

Prompto makes a sleepy noise of acknowledgement, and Gladio’s rumbling laugh vibrates through his body where they are pressed together.

“Come on, let’s get you dry.”

It takes some coordination to get Prompto back on his feet, but once he is, he finds himself leaning heavily into Gladio’s side so they can duck inside the tent pitched at the haven. It’s quiet, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner that is set to low, and they can make out two bodies curled together, Noctis and Ignis already asleep.

Without speaking, they shuffle to opposite corners and strip free of their sopping wet clothing, their silhouettes dancing along the tent’s walls like shadow puppets. Prompto tries not to study Gladio’s too hard, the outline of the man’s sculpted body filling in blanks in his imagination.

“You good?” Gladio eventually murmurs.

“Yep,” Prompto agrees, now in boxers and an oversized sweatshirt that he stole from Gladio a while back. (“Hey, that’s mine.” “It’s super comfy, okay? Not like you wear shirts most of the time anyway.”)

The choice to wear it now may seem a bit bold, but Gladio smiles when he sees Prompto in it, and it sets his mind at ease. Gladio, predictably, is only in his boxers, and Prompto fights every instinct to keep from ogling the man like an animal at the zoo. (Easier said than done.)

“How’s the ankle?” Gladio asks as they unroll their sleeping bags next to one another. The task is a good excuse to break eye contact, something Prompto is grateful for.

“I feel like there’s a knife stuck in it, but I’ll live.”

It’s already swollen, and he’s not putting all of his pressure on it, so as soon as his sleeping bag is situated, Prompto plops down. Frowning, Gladio does the same, studying the injury appraisingly.

“Let’s wrap it for the night. You need to try and keep the swelling down.”

Prompto hesitates, his initial reaction to say, ‘nah, I’ll be fine,’ but Gladio’s expression says he won’t take no for an answer.

“Okay, sure.”

Gladio is already reaching into his bag, finding a fabric bandage tucked in one pocket. Carefully, he pulls Prompto’s leg across his lap, and he watches as Gladio applies the bandage until his foot and ankle are secure. The compression actually makes the angry joint feel marginally better—go figure.

“Thanks, Gladio,” Prompto says sheepishly.

“Mmhmm,” he hums. “You’re welcome.” Prompto’s foot is still in his lap, but neither one of them are in a hurry to pull apart. Their eyes find each other, and Gladio smiles.

Prompto isn’t able to put into words what he is feeling, so he scoots until their shoulders are touching, and Gladio’s hand intertwines with his. One squeeze of reassurance is all Prompto needs to melt against his side.

“So, are you done running?”

Prompto blinks up at Gladio’s question, confused. “Huh? Well, yeah, for a while, probably. No thanks to this.” He motions to his ankle in dismay, but Gladio just shakes his head, still smiling.

“No, I mean, from _this_.”

He points a finger between him and Prompto, arching an eyebrow.

_Oh._

“I wasn’t trying to run, I just don’t want to make things weird in the group, y’know? I mean, what if the guys think it’s awkward or something?” Prompto tries to explain even as guilt crashes down on him.

“Prompto. Iggy and Noct know we’re together,” Gladio says patiently. “They’re not idiots. Well, Noct _can_ be, but you get what I mean.”

Prompto gapes at that, looking to where Noctis and Ignis are sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the conversation going on around them. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah, they just never say anything because, well.” A shrug. “They wanted us to tell them when we were ready.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Why do you think they keep sending us off together?” Prompto smacks a hand over his face, and Gladio peels it away to kiss the backs of his knuckles. “Like I said, I’ve tried to be patient, but…” he trails off.

“I’m being ridiculous?” Prompto finishes, laughing lightly.

There’s a nod from Gladio, then he grins. “Don’t get me wrong, I love when you’re ridiculous, but it would be nice to kiss you in public sometimes instead of sneaking off.”

That earns Gladio a flush from Prompto, freckles standing out against his now pink skin. “Yeah, that _would_ be nice. We wouldn’t have to go on as many runs.”

“So you _were_ just going to be alone with me? Don’t I feel used,” Gladio jokes, feigning indignation, and Prompto swats at him, hand slapping against his bare chest.

 _Ow_. _Yep, like a rock._

“…alright.” Prompto nods decisively after taking a deep breath. “Tomorrow. No more running.”

Gladio plants a kiss to Prompto’s forehead, the small gesture warming him from the inside out.

“Sounds good.”

With that, Gladio reaches over to turn off the lamp, and he tugs Prompto into the sleeping bag with him despite a giggled protest.

“This way I’ll know if you try to get up in the middle of the night—since you won’t wake me.” The jab is not-so-subtle.

“What are you gonna do? Hold it for me?” Prompto snorts even as he nuzzles into his boyfriend’s neck.

“If you want,” Gladio whispers teasingly. The buzz of the words in Prompto’s ear sends a shiver down his spine, and he pushes his hips back into Gladio’s with a hum of appreciation, pulse quickening.

“Easy, big guy, I’m trying to sleep here.” _And that is going to be impossible if you keep this up._

“Yeah, yeah,” the Shield chuckles, arm slinging across Prompto’s waist. “Sweet dreams, Prompto.”

Prompto’s eyes slide shut, lips curling up at the corners as he listens to Gladio’s heart beating, steady and smooth, unlike his own.

“G’night, Gladio.”


End file.
